Conversations: Reversals
by winter s. jameson
Summary: Just a little conversation between two friends about some important people in their lives...


_Here comes installment number seven of my Conversations series, the first new one I've written in a long time. You have no idea how thrilled I was that the muse returned to this series in a big way - it only took me a couple of days to write! And I'm really liking this one... Enjoy, and feel free to let me know what you think!_

* * *

"Personal poison delivery, at your service."

"What are you talking about?"

"You picked your poison when the gorgeous lady asked, and I've delivered it. What's not to understand?"

"Only you, homeboy, would put it that way."

"Maybe, but I think you like it that way."

"You can go ahead and keep thinking that."

Peter Venkman laughed and sat down at the corner table of the bar where Winston Zeddemore had chosen to settle himself. "Consider it done," the brown-haired man said as he placed a bottle of beer in front of his friend then took a drink from his own.

Winston shook his head and took a drink. "You're in one heck of a mood, Pete," he said once he set the bottle down. "I know it's not because work was quick, easy, and minus any slime."

Peter grinned. "No, definitely not that. Although there was less mess than usual. That was a plus. And the fees we collected were… significant." He laughed again and took another swig.

"Yeah, that would really make you feel better about things," Winston said with a chuckle. "Like always. Helping that little girl so she wasn't afraid to visit her grandma anymore had nothing to do with it."

"I have no idea what you're talking about." Green eyes twinkled with knowing mirth.

"Of course you don't."

The two of them took long swigs from their bottles, relaxing back into the cushions of the curved bench they sat on when they replaced the glass containers on the table. "It's been a while since we were able to do this," Peter said casually, his mouth turned up into a small, comfortable smile.

Winston nodded. "That's the truth," he agreed. "Although it's not like we've had all that much time lately."

Peter shrugged. "Yeah, but even when we had the time before this latest little busy spurt of business we weren't doing it. A bit caught up in other things, I guess." He took another drink.

"I guess." The black man sighed. "Maybe we shouldn't let that happen so much," he mused. "I've always kind of looked forward to it."

"Oh, I wouldn't say always," the brown-haired man replied wryly. "I seem to recall some digging in of the heels the first time or two I dragged you out."

Winston laughed. "You got me there, Pete. Of course, those first couple of times were when we were in the middle of rebuilding the firehouse, and I'd been spending all day with you jokers. I just thought I needed to spend my free time away from all of it. And from all of you."

The psychologist shrugged again. "Looked like you were trying to put a little too _much_ distance between us to me," he said, his tone getting a bit more serious. "After everything that had happened from the time Ray said you were hired and shoved those smoking traps at you, through Gozer and the sea of toasted marshmallow fluff, and the need to rebuild the containment unit and the building around it, I had a feeling you needed some time with us that wasn't work related. So I found a bar that was out of sight and sound of the firehall, but not so far away that we couldn't get back in a hurry if something major happened."

Winston tipped his head slightly to the side. "If dragging me to the bar was for social time away from work, why didn't you bring Egon and Ray?"

"They were too caught up in all the science in the beginning," Peter explained. "That was all they were talking about day and night since we bought the rickety place and started putting the business together. I was used to tuning that stuff out, having lived with them for years before that, but you didn't have that advantage. I was thinking that I'd include them later once everything settled down and became a bit more routine."

"But you never did." Black brows rose.

"No, I didn't." Peter chuckled. "I guess I figured out that I could use a little time away from the mad scientists myself, and you were pretty good company to be keeping while I did it."

Winston scoffed. "With as many dates as you go on, I find it hard to believe you don't get enough time away from it all."

Peter leaned forward and rested his elbows on the table, meeting the dark brown gaze of his companion with a serious emerald green one. "My dates are usually lovely ladies, Zed, but they don't get me or my life like you do."

Winston stared at his friend for a moment then nodded. "I guess I can understand that. But it doesn't really explain those first couple of times you pretty much forced me to go."

"Maybe it doesn't," Peter said thoughtfully, leaning back in his seat once more, beer bottle in hand. He took a deep breath and blew it out again in a long drawn out stream through pursed lips. "My instincts told me you were checking out and getting ready to run if I have to be totally honest," he said finally, meeting the other man's gaze. "I don't know if you realized it at that point, though. And I'd figured out this job was going to keep us in each others' pockets most of the time. Not really the best way to release the stress."

"Huh," Winston said, his brows coming together as he considered what he'd been told. He took a long drink from his bottle before continuing. "I don't remember thinking seriously about getting out. Well, I had a few of those thoughts run through my head right after Gozer and all the excitement of finding myself alive at the end of it had worn off, but those were done by the time we were actually rebuilding the firehouse."

"Consciously," Peter corrected him. "You were disappearing as soon as supper wound down almost nightly, off to your headphones and mysteries where you'd spend just about the rest of your time before bed."

Winston frowned. "It's not like Egon and Ray weren't going up to do experiments in the lab and you weren't heading out for yet another date with Dana Barrett," he defended himself.

Peter gave him a small smile. "Well, yeah, that's true. But you always seemed to be the first one to pack it up. It was like that was our cue to move on to our own things, even if we might have lingered a little longer otherwise." He raised his hand to stop the protest he could see forming. "I'm not blaming you for anything, or saying you made us do things we wouldn't normally have done. Especially with me; I was really trying to throw myself into my relationship with Dana."

"So why do you think that was my way of checking out of being social? How was that a sign of me being stressed out about everything?"

"We hadn't settled into our roles on the team yet," Peter began. "Before Gozer we were still figuring out how to _do_ the job, much less how to be a team about it. And right after Gozer we were putting all the pieces back together again - definitely not team building, at least not like we would to actually bust ghosts. It was nice to know we could do the team thing in general, though. But pounding nails and painting walls aren't the same as slinging proton beams."

"No, you got that right," the brown-eyed man agreed.

The psychologist took one more long draw off his bottle, finishing it off, then frowned at the brown glass and negligently put it back on the table. "We also hadn't figured out our social roles. Egon, Ray, and I had years of history and tons of habits and idiosyncracies with each other. You were the new guy. You fit in pretty well, but everything up to the rebuild was go go go, no time to think, no time to sit down and really get to know each other. And there we were, living and working together, twenty-four seven. The three of us were used to it with each other; we only had to do minor adjustments to get used to you. You not only had to deal with the three of us individually, you had to get used to our relationships with each other. I'd say it was almost like having to get to know four extra people. I'd be more surprised if it wasn't overwhelming."

Winston blinked. "Four extra people? What do you mean?"

Peter lifted a hand, index finger extended. "One, the friendship between me and Egon." He grinned. "That one's a doozy looking in from the outside, don't think we don't know that. And you were living with it." He extended a second finger. "Two, the friendship between me and Ray." He added a third finger. "Third is Ray and Egon's friendship, and fourth," the last finger of that hand joined the others, "the friendship between all three of us. They're all different entities, all unique, and one hell of a lot for someone new to get used to without some kind of release valve. And we all still needed to firm up our relationships with you, individually. With time it was bound to happen, as long as you didn't get overwhelmed in the meantime and come to the conclusion it was too much for you. So, by going off and doing your own thing as soon as you could get away with it, you were trying to keep it under control. But you were also creating a separation between you and us. Unintentional, but there all the same."

"I guess I can see that. But I had other buddies I could have gone out and let loose with, and I know I'd been starting to think about giving them a call to see what they were up to. Wouldn't that have helped?"

"Maybe, maybe not," Peter replied. "Most likely with the stress relief, but it wouldn't have helped with your connections with us. And with the on-call nature of the business as well as living and working together, well…"

"Any kind of disconnect could affect how well we worked together," Winston finished Peter's thought. "And that could be dangerous."

Peter nodded. "You're our teamwork specialist, Zed. I knew you'd understand."

Winston snorted in amusement. "Some specialist. You got it long before I did."

Peter chuckled. "Not that I'll admit this later, but you're giving me way too much credit. All I was thinking about at the time was that you seemed to be pulling away, and that would likely lead to you quitting. You fit in too well with us to just let it happen. I didn't think we'd get anywhere near as lucky if we had to try to find someone else."

"So you decided to drag me out to the bar."

"I figured with the kind of down-to-earth, laid-back guy you were that would be the best way to set you at ease. Get you to talk." Peter smirked. "And there would be plenty of alcohol at my disposal to help."

"It worked," Winston admitted with a smile of his own. "When you did your best to not bring up work and just talk about stuff I'd talk about with any other buddy, I managed to relax. Gotta say I'm glad you were watching out for me even then."

"Yeah, well, I had my own selfish reasons to get you out alone and get to know you better," the brown-haired man said, his eyes shifting away and focusing on his empty beer bottle. "I mean, you know me and trust, Winston. We aren't on the best of terms."

Winston blinked at the admission. "Had to figure out if you could trust me completely, huh?"

Peter shrugged. "Well, no, not exactly. Or at least, not completely. My brain knew I could; you don't stand up to a demigod trying to destroy the world together and not realize that. There's just something deeper in me…" He sighed. "There was one last thin layer I needed to break through to let you in. And I knew I needed to let you in if you were going to be a full member of the team, if I was going to talk to Ray and Egon about offering you a partnership in the business like I'd been considering since surviving Gozer. I mean, it just didn't seem right to have you risking your life on the job without you having a real stake in the business. You became our equal up on that roof, Zed. I just needed to formalize it."

Winston nodded. "I understand, Pete. I might not have at the time, but I do now. And I'm grateful you were willing to put out that kind of effort for me. It means a lot."

"When you started to let your guard down with me that first night, I could feel that last barrier loosen up inside. That's when I knew it was going to be okay."

"Me too." Winston frowned as he thought of something. "You know, I just remembered something. Toward the end of that first night, you told me about all the time Ray had spent getting Ecto-1 drivable when you first started the business, and how much you wished there had been someone around to help him get it done faster since he'd also been up to his ears helping Egon design and build all the busting equipment. I thought you were just reminiscing like you did with the other two, but thinking about it now it looks like you were giving me something I could use to connect with Ray. Am I getting that right?"

Peter couldn't hold back the grin that split his face. "And here I thought I'd been subtle. You kept talking about cars off and on all night, and I knew I'd seen you check up on Ray when he was tuning Ecto up over the past couple months. I had a gut feeling that was the direction to push you in. And I was so right."

Winston laughed. "Yeah, I have to admit you were. I'd been itching to get under that hood from the first time I saw it, but Ray looked like he had it handled. Your nudge was what I needed to speak up and start helping with the old girl."

Peter buffed his fingernails against his shirt. "Just a force for good in my time, Zed. What can I say?"

"Don't make me regret saying anything, Pete," Winston shot back with a groan. "I want to keep my drink down." He shook his head as Peter just laughed.

"You would have gotten there on your own, Winston," Peter said once his laughter faded. "Or Ray would have said something. You guys had already had a couple of car-related conversations by that point. I just moved things along."

"And something else comes to mind," Winston continued, his eyes narrowing. "I think it was our fourth time out that you told me about Egon's senior year chess tournament. More subtle pushing?"

Peter smirked. "What do you think? I was just surprised that you guys hadn't stumbled across that one on your own. But your timing was horrible."

Winston's eyebrows rose. "What do you mean?"

"At least twice you were standing around watching Ray and I play what pretty much amounts to beginner's chess, giving pointers that neither one of us was going to remember, when you got called away by food deliveries right before Egon came down to check on dinner. I'm not actually all that fond of chess, Winston. I was doing it for you and Egon." Peter crossed his arms over his chest as he frowned in mock frustration.

"And was Ray in on that? I find it hard to believe he could keep quiet about that for too long."

"No, he didn't know. He and I happen to play a game every now and again for kicks. We both know neither one of us would stand a chance against Doctor Chess Champion, and now we know we wouldn't stand a chance against you, either."

"So why didn't you just come right out and say something to me or Egon? Why all the sneaking around?"

Peter sighed. "Things like that work out better in the long run if they come together organically, or at least feel like they came together organically. People tend to get more enthusiastic about things they think they came up with themselves. You didn't tell Spengs you knew he'd won a chess tournament when you invited him to play a game with you, did you?"

Winston shook his head, a bit of realization dawning in his eyes. "No, I didn't want him to think it was a status thing, that I was challenging him because he was supposed to be so good at the game. I wanted it to be a friendly thing we did together. Something we both had an interest in."

Peter nodded. "It's all about perception. And had you asked me how to approach it at the time, I would have told you to do exactly what you did. It's not like you lied about anything, and neither did I. And now all's well that ends well."

"You're something else, Pete." Winston smiled and shook his head briefly before returning his gaze to his friend's. "But you know what? I know I never asked outright, but you didn't ever explain why you're in such a good mood tonight. What's going on?"

"Let me get us another round, and then we'll talk," Peter said with a smile, pushing himself to his feet. He paused to let Winston finish his beer then took the two bottles back to the bar and spoke with one of the bartenders. A couple more minutes later, the brown-haired man was back, once again handing his friend an amber-colored bottle and taking a drink from his own.

"You're getting pretty good at this," Winston said with a half-smirk as Peter sank back into the curved bench seat across the table from him. "Add a short frilly little skirt, and you'd make one hell of a cocktail waitress."

Peter snorted in amusement. "I've definitely got the legs for it. And I bet the tips I'd bring home would be amazing." He took another swig. "But I believe you were curious about the pep in my step tonight," he said, setting the bottle onto the table. "I got a letter from a Doctor Carter Skibitzki in the mail today."

Winston stared at him when he didn't go on. "And I'm guessing that's a good thing." He rolled his eyes when Peter just grinned. "Okay, so who is Doctor Carter Skibitzki?"

Peter let his expression fade into something tamer with a touch of fond reminiscence. "He's a psychology professor at Yeshiva University; I did an internship with him over the summer of '80, while I was going for my Master's degrees." He chuckled and shook his head. "Hated the subway ride to the Bronx, but it was totally worth it."

"So why was he reaching out?" Winston asked. "Something big happen, maybe something having to do with whatever project you worked on with him?"

"No, not that, although I'd love to hear if it did. Turns out he got word of that stupid plagerism accusation of Turner's and wanted to let me know he was doing his own independent investigation of it. He's not on the board reviewing my paper, but he's good friends with a few of the people who are. He's hoping he can present them with some solid evidence in my favor as soon as he can." Peter smirked. "Turner would shit bricks if he knew about this. Doc Skibitzki has some major pull in psych circles."

"That's awesome news, Pete," Winston said, a smile blossoming across his features. "So you really think this is going to make a difference for you?"

Peter nodded. "Oh, yeah. And the best part is there isn't an obvious connection between the two of us, not if you don't know about the details of my education. An internship, especially one over ten years old, isn't the first thing that's going to pop up on anyone's radar."

Winston nodded, too. "And he's not connected to Columbia." He raised his bottle to Peter, clinking the two glass receptacles when the unspoken invitation was accepted. "I wonder how he heard about it, though. His friends on the board couldn't have said anything, not ethically at least."

Peter shrugged. "True, they couldn't. But I happen to know the answer to that question, and that might be the best thing of all." His green eyes lit up with an unexpected pride and excitement, and he grinned widely when Winston merely raised his eyebrows at him. "My dad of all people talked to him. I didn't even know Pop knew him, but the doc mentioned he was glad he got the phone call so he could put things to bed quickly and quietly." The psychologist gave a brief bark of laughter. "What a crazy thing, huh? If I'd thought of getting my dad involved in this at all, it would have been more about doing something directly to Turner. But that phone call is probably exactly what will work best in the long run. And he did it on his own." He sank back in his seat, his smile not diminishing in the slightest.

Winston couldn't but smile back. "It's great to see your dad come through for you, Pete. I know how much trouble you've had with him before now."

"Ugh, the list is too long to mention," Peter said with a roll of his eyes, although the pleased sparkle never faded. "But he did good this time. He really came through."

"I'm really happy for you, Pete. Really happy." Winston kept smiling at the grin Peter couldn't erase now that everything was out in the open. He was surprised at what Charlie Venkman had done, but in the best way possible. It was great to see the old man had looked out for his son for once instead of trying to get him involved in one of the con man's schemes. He took a long drink of his beer. "So when is that review supposed to happen?"

"They haven't formally set a date, but I'd guess somewhere around a couple months from now." Peter shook his head. "You know how slowly bureaucracy works."

Winston nodded. "That's working in your favor this time, now that you know about your old professor checking things out for you."

Peter grinned again. "And I'm going to enjoy every word of his rebuttal, I promise you that. I might even frame it and hang it on my wall."

Winston laughed. "I wouldn't put it past you, Pete. Not one inch."

"I'd be more surprised if you would." Peter lifted his beer and took another swallow.

"Now I don't mean to bring you down or anything," Winston said as the other man put his bottle back on the table, his curiosity getting the best of him, "but this isn't the first time your dad has come through big for you, is it?"

Peter's smile faded into a more neutral expression and he searched the dark brown eyes across from him for a long, silent moment. "No, not the first," he said finally, his tone as bland as his features. "It's not a long list, but it's not the first."

Winston flinched guiltily. "I'm sorry, Pete. I didn't want to burst your bubble. It's just that I haven't heard a lot of good stories about your dad, and my curiosity got the best of me." He blew out an explosive breath. "Damn it, I'm sorry. The last thing I wanted to do was wreck your good mood, and that's just what I've done."

Peter sat up, sighed, and leaned forward to put his weight on his arms on the table. "Zed, you haven't wrecked anything," he said calmly. "Brought me down some, sure, but I get why you're asking. It's not like Pop has the best track record." He reached over the wooden surface between them and lightly smacked the other man's shoulder. "Don't beat yourself up over it." He leaned back again. "I think one of the best times before now was when he surprised me with money so I could go to Italy with Ray and Egon for spring break my senior year at Columbia." He smiled wryly, the mood lightening up considerably. "I never asked where he got it and I never will, but that was an amazing trip. Remind me to tell you about it one of these days, especially if Egon is around." The smile grew wicked.

"Oh, I sense one heck of a college story heading my way on that one," Winston said, relieved.

"You have no idea." Peter chuckled.

Winston chuckled, too, then sighed. He opened his mouth like he was going to say something, then clamped it shut and shook his head. After a beat he took a long drink from his beer, almost finishing it off.

Peter watched him in silence, his eyes narrowed in consideration. Once it became obvious that his friend wasn't going to be continuing the conversation, he decided to take the reins. "So, Zed, I meant to ask you this earlier, but what made you think of taking this little trip? I mean, it _was_ your idea to rekindle the old tradition after all. What's up?"

The black man blinked in surprise at the question. "We haven't done this in a while, m'man. I missed it. I thought you would have, too."

Peter nodded. "Sure I did. But something seemed just a little bit off when you brought it up. Now that I think about it, you seemed hyper aware of everyone else at the firehouse. Egon is at that all-day seminar, but Janine is working overtime, and Ray has been randomly going in and out of the lab behind my office… If I didn't know any better, I'd say you wanted to talk to me alone without any interruptions, and there was no guarantee of that at home. I ask again, what's up?"

"I don't know why I forget how much you notice when you put your mind to it," Winston muttered with a shake of his head. He sighed. "And apparently it's a night about fathers."

"Something's up with your dad?" Peter asked as he sat up in his seat, his concern going up a few notches. "He's supposed to be going in for some kind of surgery next week, right? Something minor?"

"Yeah, they're draining some fluid that's been building up in his knee on Tuesday. His doctor's been warning him that he's probably going to end up needing a knee replacement sooner rather than later."

"So did something else come up, like in a scan or some labwork?"

Winston shook his head. "No, nothing like that. You know I got that call from my sister-in-law Melody after our scheduled busts yesterday morning? She asked if I could pick up my nephew Noah after his track practice so he wouldn't have to take the subway."

Peter nodded. "The private school bus was going to be long gone, I remember."

"Well, on the way to his house, Noah brought up my dad's surgery, saying he was glad it wasn't him since he had a couple meets left on his schedule and he wouldn't want to miss them. I asked him if he was nervous about his grandpa going in on Tuesday. Noah said not really, definitely not as worried as he'd been a few years ago when Grandpa Ed had been rushed in for an emergency appendectomy. At least this one was planned." Winston blew out a loud breath. "Pete, no one ever told me my dad had had to have his appendix out. I never knew about it. I sat there driving, stunned, until Noah asked if I was all right. I managed to laugh it off and blame it on the traffic, but he wasn't really buying it. He added it hadn't been too long before Dad lightened up on me about being a ghostbuster."

"So right before our little adventure in the Land of Lost Objects," Peter said. "That's been a while."

"Yeah. It was quiet for a couple blocks, then Noah asked if I didn't know that before. I couldn't lie to him; I told him it was the first I'd ever heard about it. He nodded and chewed on the inside of his cheek for a bit then said that it happened during one of the family's Sunday dinners, one I hadn't been able to make because we'd been pretty swamped with calls. I guess Dad hadn't been feeling too well for a day or so before that, and then just curled up before dessert. My mom said enough was enough and started to bundle him up to have Frank take him to the hospital. But before he got out the door Dad said not to call me, he didn't want to interrupt me since I was so busy. Mom tried to argue with him, but he wasn't having any. And the surgery was quick and easy, with no complications, so Dad said not to worry me since it was over and done with." Winston sighed. "I didn't get over there for a Sunday dinner for another couple weeks, so Dad was back to his normal self and I'm thinking no one else wanted to stir the pot and get him going again. Nobody's said anything about it since. I've never known."

"Whoa," Peter said slowly, drawing the word out. "That doesn't sound normal."

Winston shook his head. "It's not. Things like that, that gets shared with everyone, aunts, uncles, cousins, grandparents… everybody. Not always right away, emergencies and unexpected things happen." He flopped back against the back of his seat. "Dad's fine, though. It's not like it matters. I can't help but feel like I'm being a little kid about this."

Peter leaned forward and shifted his weight to the arms he put on the table in front of him. "Give yourself a break, Zed. You're not being a kid. You're shocked and hurt, two emotions that are completely understandable under the circumstances."

The dark-skinned man shifted uncomfortably in his seat. "Am I supposed to be feeling betrayed, too? Because I do. And man, if that doesn't have me thinking I'm blowing this all out of proportion."

"Aw, Winston," Peter murmured sympathetically. He took a deep breath and released it. "You aren't overreacting here," he said at a normal volume. "This kind of thing _hurts_. And it lingers. Your feelings are valid."

"Maybe so," Winston conceded, his eyes dropping to the bottles resting on the table. "But I hate feeling like this. I mean, what if something had happened? What if his surgery hadn't been so easy? I get not calling me right when it happened, I do. Get him taken care of first. But to not even tell me after? I'm starting to find myself wondering what else I haven't been told."

"God, Winston, don't do that," Peter said almost desperately. "Don't let yourself go there. You don't want to go down that path. Talk to someone. Talk to your dad. Ask him what happened, what he was thinking. Get answers, _real_ answers. Don't guess what anyone's motivation was. Find out for sure. You owe it to yourself."

Winston looked up and saw the need in his friend's sympathetic gaze. He could almost hear him saying, _Don't end up like me_. "I'll talk to him," he said softly. "At Sunday dinner tomorrow. I promise."

The tenseness flowed out of Peter's body, and the brown-haired man grinned in relief. "Good," he said as he sat back. "Then I think you'll be okay."

Winston couldn't help but return the expression. "What a weird couple of days, huh? Thanks for listening, Pete."

"Hey, anytime. And you're right about it being weird. I mean, talk about a complete role reversal. You're worried about your dad, and I'm praising mine." Peter gave a short laugh and shook his head.

"I'm glad for that," Winston said firmly, still smiling. "Well, your half of it at any rate. I've just got to fix mine."

"You will. There's not a doubt of that in my mind." Peter sat up straight, grabbed his beer, and finished it off in one long draw. "And now I'm hungry," he said as he put his bottle back on the table with a thump. "What do you say we take off and grab something on the way home? We've got at least five restaurants to choose from."

"Sounds good to me, Pete. And then maybe we can figure out what Ray's been up to all day."

Peter grinned. But before he could reply, a waitress came up to the table and handed him a piece of paper, saying it was a phone message. The psychologist frowned in surprise as she went back to the bar and read what the note said.

Winston pointed at the raggedy-topped scrap. "Whatcha got there?"

Peter looked up at the other man with a half smirk twitching at his lips. "Apparently we aren't the only ones thinking about food. Ray's wondering if we'd be willing to drop by No Yu's on the way back with our usual orders. He says Egon should be back not long after we are if we leave soon."

"I could do Chinese," the black man agreed. He finished off the last swallow of his beer and pushed himself to his feet, followed closely by Peter. "I think that'll be a great way to end the day."

"Definitely a reversal from how it started," Peter said, slapping Winston on the back as they started to head for the door. "And that's just the way it should be."

The two friends headed off into the night, happy to be in each others' company and heading for the comfort of home and the family of choice to be found there.

The End (for now…)


End file.
